


Espresso

by HopeStoryteller



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley are mentioned, F/F, McDonald's, her coworker is literally just one of my coworkers and I might actually die if she ever reads this, the poor kid working the register is a thinly veiled self-insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 16:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20727167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeStoryteller/pseuds/HopeStoryteller
Summary: Michael may or may not be drinking concerning amounts of caffeine to cope with the aftermath of Armageddidn't. Dagon's helping. (She's not helping. Is it cannibalism if Dagon eats a filet-o-fish?)Also, a couple of tired McDonalds employees aren't paid enough to deal with this, they really aren't.





	Espresso

Rain has seen a  _ lot _ of shit during her time at McDonalds. Usually, she works fries, which helps keep the amount of shit seen to a minimum—but there are times when there’s not enough people or the people that there are enough of are either 1) stuck on the grill or 2) completely incompetent, and then she gets shoved on the drive-through or the front counter.

Normally, if she got to pick, she’d pick counter. Today, she’s beginning to wish she’d been put on drive-through, because at least you get to see cute dogs on drive-through.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Rain says cautiously, “could you repeat that?”

_ Are you insane or do you have a death wish, _ is what she  _ really _ wants to ask, but asking customers if they have death wishes is generally frowned upon, as is asking if they’re insane. And in all fairness, this particular one doesn’t  _ look _ insane, just equal parts exhausted and pissed.

She’s not bad-looking, either, although that’s the gay in Rain talking and she isn’t sure she wants to know whether this customer’s queer and/or single at the moment. Right now she’s just Concerned. With a capital C. (Although this customer does have a sweet British accent, and her eyes are pretty and ANYWAY NOT THE TIME RAIN, YOU’VE GOT FOUR HOURS LEFT.)

“Biggest coffee cup you’ve got. Filled with espresso. Extra shots or whatever, I don’t care how much it costs.”

“Right,” Rain says automatically, selecting a large coffee, putting a special request on it, and then… hesitates. “I don’t… actually  _ know _ how many extra shots that would be, do you mind if I ask someone real quick?”

The customer shrugs. “Just make it quick.”

Rain nods, and nearly runs straight into Paisley. Right, she usually works drinks, she’ll know how many espresso shots can fit into a large coffee cup. Hopefully.

“What’s the special request?” Paisley asks. She frowns, mouths ‘hold on a sec’, and presses a button on her headset. “Hi! Welcome to McDonalds, what can I get for you today?”

As Paisley punches in the order, Rain gives the customer an apologetic smile. “So sorry, ma’am, you came at a really bad time. It’s hell in the drive-through right now. Could be worse, I guess.”

The customer, who’d since pulled out her wallet and was getting out a credit card, gives Rain a funny look.

“I promise you,” she says, “it’s  _ not _ hell out there.”

“Fair enough,” Rain agrees with a shrug. Overly-religious customer, almost certainly not queer then, god-mcfucking-dammit. “Armageddon or something then.”

Apparently that wasn’t the right thing to say, because the customer’s scowl deepens even further.

“It was  _ supposed _ to be Armageddon.”

Rain, really not at all sure what to say to this, nods mutely and is rescued by a quick tap on the shoulder from Paisley.

“Special request?”

“However many espresso shots fit into a large coffee cup,” Rain says helplessly. “Just… straight espresso.”

Paisley’s jaw drops.  _ Paisley _ , who Rain has never seen actually shocked by anything. Goddamn.

“You’re kidding.”

“I promise you, I’m not,” the customer says, exhaustion practically seeping through her words. She clears her throat. “I need this.  _ Please. _ ”

Rain and Paisley exchange glances, and Paisley heads off to make the... ‘drink’. There has to be at least twenty shots that go into that thing, but Rain feels kind of bad and espresso shots are expensive, so she doesn’t bother counting after twenty.

“Right. For here or to go?”

“Here, I suppose.”

Rain taps to the payment scream, hits the button for payment by card. “That’ll be—”

The customer jabs the card in the reader without a word or bothering to read the price, takes it out again. Rain catches a glimpse of a name, something starting with M, before it’s back in her wallet and the wallet’s put away… somewhere. Probably in a pocket, she’s not carrying a purse. 

_ God _ does Rain wish her uniform had better pockets.

“Right.” She grabs one of the indicators and hands it to M. “Take this with you, it… might be a bit for your drink, ma’am.”

M nods wordlessly and stalks off with 77 to a table in the corner.

Right. Next customer.

“Hi, what can I get for you today?”

Rain’s new customer flashes her a toothy grin—slightly unnerving but actually kinda hot—leans on the counter next to the register, and says, “Filet-o-fish.”

Rain glances as subtly as she can at the clock. 10:31. They’ve started lunch at 10:30 before, but generally it doesn’t start until 10:50 at the absolute earliest, and the hapless new kid stuck on fries is still making hash browns and hash browns only so it’s safe to assume lunch hasn’t started yet.

“Sorry, we won’t be serving those for… officially twenty-nine minutes, unofficially probably more like twenty,” Rain says apologetically. “Anything else I can get for you?”

She could  _ swear _ someone snapped their fingers nearby, but it wasn’t the customer probably and it wasn’t any of her coworkers probably, and as she’s looking around—

“We’re starting lunch,” someone tells the hapless new kid on fries. Oh. Well then. That makes her job easier.

“Actually,” Rain amends, “we just started lunch. Filet, just the sandwich or the meal?”

“Meal, why the heaven not.”

Rain decides not to comment on the customer’s use of ‘heaven’ where most people would use ‘hell’, because who the fuck knows, could be a satanist or something and that’s neat, she’s not judging.

“Got it, for here or to go?”

“Here,” the customer says, and as she passes over what somehow amounts to the exact right amount of cash, Rain passes back a large cup and the table located numbered 13. She  _ swears _ the customer’s grin grows a little when she sees the number.

She notes, after a moment, that she too has a British accent. But they get a  _ lot _ of tourists, British ones are fairly common, so Rain thinks nothing of it until she’s sent to go wipe down tables and finds that both British customers are seated at the same table. M’s drinking her coffee with a disgusted look on her face that’s probably from the fact that she’s drinking  _ straight espresso _ , and the hot redheaded lady that Rain wouldn’t mind stepping on her and OKAY SHE’S GOT FOUR HOURS TO GO, NOT THE TIME, is happily chomping away on her filet.

Rain isn’t eavesdropping, of course not, but looking busy when you’re actually not is a very good way to make the time pass quickly and she’s got like twenty minutes until break, anyway. And this table does need wiping down. It definitely doesn’t need twenty minutes worth of wiping down, but the rest of the tables are clean and she is at least a little curious as to what kind of person would order straight espresso.

“You’re way too cheerful today, Dagon,” M says at last. Rain risks a glance and sees her now staring contemplatively into the depths of her coffee cup. “What did you do this time?”

“What do you think?”

The second woman’s named Dagon, evidently, which is a neat name actually. But also they apparently know each other, and considering that Dagon seemed pretty fucking gay, Rain’s willing to bet neither of them are single.  _ Damn. _ Pity.

“Figured out how the  _ Hell _ Aziraphale and Crowley are still alive?”

“Well… no. Not yet. We’re all working on that. You want to hear what I  _ did _ do?”

“Not particularly. What didn’t you do?”

“Come on, Mikey, you’re no fun!”

‘Mikey’ audibly sighs, and corrects, “Michael.”

Rain risks another glance at Michael and Dagon, sees Dagon fidgeting in her seat with no small amount of excitement before finally blurting out, “I finally finished _all. The paperwork._ _From Armageddon._”

“The Armageddon that didn’t happen, you mean?”

Dagon sighs dramatically, “Listen, I was looking forward to never doing paperwork again.”

That, Rain thinks privately to herself, is a mood. Even if she’s beginning to think she’s accidentally begun eavesdropping on a conversation between two supernatural beings about something she definitely shouldn’t know anything about.

Is that going to stop her? Absolutely not, she’s curious, and hey, if she gets brutally maimed or kidnapped to never be seen again she won’t have to do the rest of her shift, and that’s obviously a big plus. So she scrubs the table next to them with a renewed intensity, and pretends to not be listening.

“Yes. I was looking forward to finishing things once and for all.”

Dagon laughs. “Me too. Funny how things change, isn’t it? I think, if I did figure out how Aziraphale and Crowley survived, I wouldn’t go after them again. Not anymore.”

“I would,” Michael says stiffly.

“Well of  _ course _ you would, you’re a spiteful bitch.”

“I am  _ not! _ I am the—”

Rain would never find out what Michael was, beyond being a spiteful bitch, because it was then that Dagon, having finished her filet-o-fish, leaned over the table and—yeah, they’re making out. Rain quickly makes herself scarce, she’s not paid enough to break up eldritch beings making out and casually discussing the end of the goddamn world.

(As soon as Rain is out of earshot, Dagon breaks away, looking as self-satisfied as Michael looks  _ pissed. _ )

(“You’re welcome,” Dagon says far too cheerfully.)

(Michael seriously considers slapping her. Instead, she gets up, grabs the remnants of her coffee, and all but stomps out.)

(Dagon, for her part, snaps her fingers. Several people who would have turned into McDonald’s don’t, and the place is considerably less busy the rest of the day. Several employees get off early as a direct result of this, including Rain and Paisley.)

**Author's Note:**

> I started joking about Michael becoming addicted to caffeine post-Armageddidn't. Then someone showed me [this](https://katjohnadams.tumblr.com/post/166826922894/anais-ninja-blog-witchcraft-with-space-bean) and... whoops.
> 
> <strike>I'm going to hope the real Paisley never reads this because if she does I might actually die. Paisley if you're reading this and I showed it to you, please ignore this bit and the tags I'm a socially awkward mess let me have this. although if you want me to change your name in it that's cool too I just didn't want to call you Parsley or smth.</strike>


End file.
